


At What Cost, Victory?

by Adsullatta



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Munkata's Cunning Plan, Not really slash though I ship it!, a tiny bit of angst, one character fic, s2e8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:05:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adsullatta/pseuds/Adsullatta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of his fight with Fushimi in <i>Kaput</i>, Munakata broods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At What Cost, Victory?

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a [Game of Cards](http://gameofcards.livejournal.com/) challenge to write a missing scene for a tv show/book/film etc. Written on Nov 30, 2015 _before_ we had confirmation that Fushimi was under orders to infiltrate JUNGLE.
> 
> (I always had faith in The Cunning Plan!)
> 
> Also, this is my first real foray into the world of K so...yeah, it's not perfect.

Upon arriving back at headquarters, Munakata locked himself in his office and poured himself a stiff drink with strangely shaky hands. It had undoubtedly been one of the worst nights of his life. An ignominious defeat at the hands of the Green and Gray Kings and the loss of the Dresden Slate, followed by a harsh and bitter quarrel with his favorite subordinate. He sank into the plush embrace of his palatial office chair with an uncharacteristic lack of grace and proceeded to brood over the scene that had unfolded in his trailer barely an hour before. The fight had been a set-up; _they both knew that_ , but Munakata had deliberately _not_ scripted it beforehand. Needing Fushimi's responses to be as genuine as possible, he'd given Saruhiko no warning and had deliberately gone for the jugular. 

In accusing Fushimi of being a traitor and calling him pathetic, he'd expected his words to hurt Saruhiko. What Reisi hadn't expected was for it to hurt _him_ so much to hurt Saruhiko. The way his head had snapped back and how his eyes had widened for just an instant before they narrowed in anger...Reisi had turned away but he still saw it out of the corner of his eye. The reaction lasted only a fraction of a second, had Reisi blinked he'd have missed the terrible pain that flashed across those clear blue eyes before they began to glow with rage. But he hadn't blinked and he hadn't missed it. 

In that instant, he'd felt a corresponding pain lance through his chest, and it had taken a far greater effort to keep going in the face of Fushimi's genuinely wounded rage than Reisi had calculated it would. He'd wanted to call a halt to the fight immediately, had wanted to grab Saruhiko, force him to meet his eyes and remind him that this wasn't real, it was staged. Munakata didn't regard Fushimi as a traitor, he never had, not for even an instant. If he had, he'd never have allowed Fushimi to even _join_ Scepter4 let alone rise to become third in command of the whole organization. But he hadn't been able do that. He couldn't derail his own plan by stopping to tend the wounds he was deliberately inflicting. 

Instead, he'd forced himself to go even further, launching a terribly low blow in accusing Fushimi of self-centered power-grubbing when Reisi knew damn well that in his heart-of-hearts, the only thing Saruhiko had truly ever wanted was a place to belong and people who wouldn't betray his tragically fragile trust. In the moment that Fushimi had furiously drawn his sword, Munakata hadn't been certain he wouldn't actually attack, and even now, Reisi wasn't certain that _he_ would have fought back. However, Fushimi focused his rage on the door to the trailer itself, impaling it with his saber before contemptuously using it as a hanger for his Scepter4 uniform coat.

Munakata had stolen a single glance at Fushimi's narrow, rigidly upright back as it retreated through a crowd of subordinates frozen with dismay. For the sake of his composure, he looked away again, confining his agitation to the flexing of his hands, grinding the heels of his hands together in silent anguish. _He'll understand_ , Reisi thought desperately. _He knows this is just a set up; he knows I don't mean it_.

He tried to reassure himself the same way now as he finished his drink and rose to pour another. Fushimi had a good head on his shoulders, one of the best. _Even if it hurt in the moment, he'll remember that the fight was fake, he won't take those words to heart...right?_

Munakata rarely doubted himself, supremely confident that his decisions were made with impeccable logic, and based on his heightened insight and intellectual analysis. However, he wasn't unduly arrogant. While he was confident in his actions, he knew he wasn't truly infallible and so always tried to plan for failure. That's what the fight tonight had really been about. 

Still, he hadn't really thought they'd fail, and the moping in his trailer had only been partially feigned. He wouldn't normally have indulged such emotions but since his contingency plans called for it, he'd allowed himself to feel glum as he'd tended his wounds and waited for Fushimi to start the argument. He'd felt a sting himself at Fushimi's taunts and had used that pain to fuel his counter-attack. However, that small pain had evaporated as the color had drained from Saruhiko's face even as his eyes were brightening with moisture. Hot lead suddenly flooded Reisi's veins, followed by an icy wave of cold; salt rushed his mouth and not even the rage that almost instantly replaced the terrible pain in Saruhiko's bright blue eyes was enough to calm the roiling in Reisi's stomach. 

In truth he'd been relieved when Saruhiko had ended the fight so abruptly. For now at least, it was over. He'd been allowed to retreat from the field, leaving Fushimi to carry on the fight alone. And though Munakata had no doubts whatsoever that Fushimi would succeed, he couldn't help but worry at what cost to Saruhiko's heart and soul?


End file.
